Authors: Maureen Smith
She
nearly sobbed with disappointment when he suddenly stopped rubbing her. “Looks
like I was right again,” he murmured triumphantly in her ear.
“You
do
want me to touch you, Rebecca.
Say it.”
She
could feel her blood roaring through her veins. She licked her lips and rocked
her hips against him, silently begging him not to stop, to keep going until she
couldn’t take any more.
Soft,
sensual lips nuzzled her ear, then the nape of her neck, sending frissons of
sensation down her spine. “Say it, Rebecca,” he urged a second time, his voice
a low, husky command.
“I
want you to touch me,” she whimpered helplessly.
She
felt rather than saw him smile. “With pleasure.”
She
nearly came as one thick finger slipped deep inside her pussy. A sharp cry
erupted from her throat, and she flung back her head. But she wasn’t the only
one affected. She could feel the stranger’s erect cock throbbing against her
ass, straining for release.
And
she fully intended to give it to him.
A loud crash intruded upon Rebecca’s erotic
fantasy, jerking her back to the present. Shaken, she glanced around the club
and saw that the young waitress, Nina, had dropped a tray full of glasses on
her way to the kitchen.
As Rebecca stood there debating whether to go
help the girl or run to the restroom to wipe her damp crotch, she caught the
stranger’s hot, bold gaze.
His mouth curved in the barest hint of a
smile, as if he knew she’d been watching him and fantasizing about him.
Mortified, she hurried away to help clean up Nina’s
mess before she made one of her own.
***
Sometime after midnight, Bruno Rossi found Rebecca
in the kitchen waiting on a platter of appetizers.
“Edmonds,” he said without preamble,
interrupting her conversation with the cook. “I need to pull you off the floor
for a little while.”
Rebecca arched a quizzical brow at her boss.
Despite the late hour, he looked crisp and commanding in an impeccably tailored
suit with leather Italian loafers that were polished to a high gleam. The scent
of his expensive cologne mingled with the odors of cigar smoke, sweat and
assorted foods that permeated the air.
At thirty-five years old, Bruno had amassed a
considerable fortune as a successful businessman. In addition to The Sultan’s,
he owned principal interests in two Atlantic City casinos and a thriving chain
of delicatessens in New Jersey. Although there had been rumors over the years
that he had ties to organized crime, he’d never received so much as a speeding
ticket, and the IRS had all but given up on auditing him.
“What’s up, Bruno?” Rebecca asked curiously.
“Why’re you pulling me off the floor?”
Bruno scratched his ear, and for the first
time since Rebecca had known him, he looked slightly sheepish. “I need you in
the Platinum Suite. A customer has requested the honor of your presence, and I
accepted on your behalf.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed sharply on his
handsome, olive-toned face. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Rebecca, don’t give me attitude.
I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time—”
Her temper flared. “If you think I’m giving
some creep a lap dance, think again!”
Bruno scowled. “Did I ask you to give anyone
a lap dance? You think that’s what I pay you for?” So as to not attract the
attention of the other occupants of the kitchen, he lowered his voice. “Look, Edmonds,
the guy’s not expecting a lap dance or anything like that. He just wants to
talk to you, get to know you a little better. You must have really made an
impression on him.”
“How much?” Rebecca demanded.
Bruno frowned, nonplussed. “How much what?”
“How much did he pay you for the ‘honor’ of
my presence? Whatever it was, I’ll double it.”
“Aw, come on, Rebecca, don’t be like that.
You’re making this harder than it has to be! Look, I told the guy you’re one of
my best waitresses, so I really can’t spare you more than twenty minutes.
That’s all I’m asking of you—twenty minutes to make meaningless small
talk with him, then you can be on your merry way. And you don’t have to worry
about him trying nothing funny—Paulie will be posted outside the door the
entire time, I swear.”
Rebecca hesitated. Bruno’s willingness to
loan her his own personal bodyguard was not lost on her, nor did it escape her
notice that he was
requesting
her
cooperation when he could just as easily
order
her to comply.
Still, his eagerness to sell her to the
highest bidder rankled. She understood wanting to please a customer, but this
was going too far.
Seeing the adamant refusal in her eyes, Bruno
tried another tack. “Do this for me,” he said, looking her straight in the eye,
“and I won’t fire that clumsy little waitress you feel so sorry for.”
Rebecca frowned. “That’s not fair, Bruno. Nina’s
a college student—she needs the money.”
His dark eyes flashed with triumph. He knew
he had her. “That’s the deal, Edmonds. Take it or leave it.”
“You play dirty,” she accused.
He merely grinned.
“Fine,” she snapped, yanking off her apron
and tossing it aside. “Twenty minutes, Bruno, and not a second more, you
understand?”
He spread his hands wide in a conciliatory
gesture. “That’s all I ask.”
The Platinum Suite was located next to the
VIP lounge on the second floor of the nightclub. The room was reserved for
customers who wanted more privacy to receive lap dances or entertain business
clients. As the name suggested, admission to the Platinum Suite was
outrageously expensive, limiting its use to the club’s most affluent patrons.
Dancers who were invited to join customers in the exclusive room considered it
an honor, a symbol of their elevated status in the food chain.
Rebecca wasn’t a dancer. And she was anything
but
honored by the invitation.
“I’ll be right outside the door,” said Paul
Colangelo, the tall, burly bodyguard who’d escorted Rebecca upstairs.
She nodded, giving him a brief smile.
“Thanks, Paulie.”
He held the door open for her as she stepped
into a lavishly appointed suite boasting crystal chandeliers and gleaming black
marble floors. The lights were dimmed low, creating a soft, romantic glow
throughout the room. There was a private bar in one corner, and a small seating
area occupied by a plush white sectional that curved into a semicircle. The
facing wall was dominated by a large glass aquarium stocked with a brilliant
variety of tropical fish.
But it was the tall, broad-shouldered man
standing before the aquarium who caught and held Rebecca’s attention.
As he turned slowly to face her, she felt a
jolt of recognition that made her lips part in surprise.
She couldn’t believe it.
The customer who’d summoned her to the
Platinum Suite was none other than the sexy stranger who’d been driving her
crazy all night.
Seeing her shocked expression, the man
smiled—a slow, wicked smile that made Rebecca’s toes curl.
“Expecting someone else?” he drawled.
Rebecca shook her head, stepping further into
the room. The door closed behind her, sealing her fate. She swallowed hard,
shoving aside the unsettling thought.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she answered
coolly, “because I’m not in the habit of meeting strange men alone in this
room—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
He chuckled softly. “Like I said earlier.
Never say never, Rebecca.”
She didn’t care for the familiarity in his
tone. Her chin lifted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Mr.—”
“Gray,” he supplied. “Vince Gray.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Mr. Gray, I’m
not a dancer at this club. If you wanted private entertainment, any one of the
girls would have been happy to accommodate you. Giselle, for example, is quite
popular with—”
Vince shook his head slowly. “I didn’t want
Giselle,” he said huskily. “I wanted you.”
His words sent a shaft of heat coursing
through Rebecca.
Before she could regain the power of speech,
he continued, “And I’m not interested in a lap dance, Rebecca. I’ve had my fill
for one night.”
He walked toward her with a controlled,
powerful stride. It was only when he’d reached her that Rebecca realized just
how tall he was, at least six four. He towered over her even in the stiletto
heels she wore. He looked darkly handsome in a well-cut blazer, pleated
charcoal trousers and a snowy white shirt open to the strong column of his
throat. Despite the tastefulness of his clothing, Rebecca had the feeling Vince
Gray would be equally arresting in battered blue jeans and a sweatshirt with
the sleeves torn off. He exuded the sort of raw animal magnetism that made him
nearly impossible to resist.
Rebecca took an unconscious step backward,
her pulse hammering. Hard as it might be, she
would
resist.
“What do you want, Mr. Gray?”
His eyes searched her face. “For starters,”
he murmured, “I want you to call me Vince. And what I also want, Rebecca, is
for you to have a drink with me.”
She shook her head. “We’re not supposed to
drink on the job.”
“You’ve worked hard all night. You deserve to
relax, unwind a little.” When she hesitated, he added with a conspiratorial
wink, “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
Rebecca couldn’t help chuckling. “I’m okay,
really. But if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to fix you a drink. Another
whiskey?” she asked as she started toward the bar, as much to be hospitable as
to place some much-needed distance between them.
Vince caught her arm to halt her retreat. His
hand was warm, big and strong, his touch sending hot currents through her body.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine. Why don’t we sit down?” he suggested,
gently redirecting her toward the seating area with a hand on her back that turned
her bones to liquid.
As they sat down on the plush sectional, Rebecca
wondered how on earth she was supposed to spend the next twenty minutes with a
complete stranger who wreaked such havoc on her senses. It wasn’t fair. There
ought to be laws against unleashing men like Vince Gray on the female populace.
He’d sat too close to her, so close she could
smell him, soap and an intoxicating scent that was uniquely male. She could
feel his heat and his vitality, and it shook her. She resisted the temptation
to scoot a few inches away from him. No point in letting him know how much he
affected her, right?
She strove for aloofness. “So tell me, Vince.
Do you make a habit of cruising strip joints to pick up waitresses?”
He laughed, and damn if it wasn’t the sexiest
sound she’d ever heard in her life. His hot, bold gaze met hers. “I only ‘pick
up’ the ones who take my breath away,” he drawled, “and you’re the only one
who’s ever done that.”
His words sent a thrill of pleasure through Rebecca,
which she squelched at once. The man was obviously a shameless womanizer. If
she wasn’t careful, she’d end up doing something really stupid.
“I was hoping you would come,” Vince said
huskily.
Rebecca felt a shiver of warmth puddle in her
groin. She knew what he was referring to. But when spoken
in that deep, dark voice of his,
anything
he said took on a sexual connotation. And considering how
sinfully gorgeous he was, it was only natural for her mind to wander to
forbidden territory. God, but he had the most penetrating eyes she’d ever seen.
And those lips. They looked like the lips of a man who knew his way around a
woman’s—
Dragging her mind back to the conversation, Rebecca
murmured, “I didn’t really have much of a choice about meeting you here.”
Vince looked vaguely amused. “I find that
hard to believe. Something tells me you’re a woman who makes her own choices
and dares anyone to defy her.” Those probing eyes narrowed on hers with an
intuitiveness that unnerved her. “What are you hiding behind that mask, Rebecca?”
She frowned. “I’m not hiding anything. I wore
it for Halloween—all of the waitresses are wearing masks, in case you
hadn’t noticed. It’s an annual tradition.”
He flicked his wrist to glance at the watch
peeking from beneath the white cuff of his shirt. “It’s after midnight.
Halloween is officially over.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So take off the mask.” When she hesitated,
he softly cajoled, “I want to see you.
All
of you.”
Heat rushed into her belly as a mental image
of herself standing naked before him flashed through her mind. Remembering her
erotic fantasy, she blushed, and was glad he couldn’t detect it. No way was she
parting with the mask.